Sabrina's explanation did elicit a proper shocked face at one point, but probably not at a place any normal being would show emotion.
Him? Make his own food?
He was horrified at the notion.
What manner of nightmare had he landed in?
Okay, that was melodramatic but not by much. He didn't know how to even toast bread, or make his own tea, or a basic cucumber sandwich. What even went into a cucumber sandwich? The world may never know. Begging off people sounded just as awful.
He wandered to a chair and wilted into it, not giving a care if his wet, bloody shirt stained it. Elbow propped on the arm, he covered his eyes with a hand and rubbed at his temples, trying to figure out his next move.
He peeked out between two fingers at Sabrina, frowning.